Doomed Cases Series (1-3) Demonic Triangle Diabolical Quest Infernal Initiation Page 9

  “I woke up in the hospital several days later, not remembering anything at all. I had a cracked skull, broken wrists, my kidneys were punctured. It took me weeks to recover, to actually want to keep on living. The police closed the investigation pretty quickly. They didn’t have any leads or witnesses from that night. After that I didn’t go back to that old life. I started hanging around in bars and nightclubs, playing cards for money. Some nice people taught me how to survive on the streets on my own. It was easier to act like I had nothing to lose. Soon I was making more money than I could ever imagine, so I took some self-defence classes, trained in martial arts too. People started to respect me, and I began getting some contract work in security. My life was suddenly good. I had friends, cash in my pocket and I was finally free. Every day I was making progress, making connections with the people in the business, and pushing myself during training. I started protecting wealthy clients, looking after rich kids, managing clubs and restaurants. Things were good and then the opportunity in Buckingham Palace came around. Nothing was ever the same after that.

  I closed my eyes, dragging the nicotine from the cigarette deep into my lungs. I had never liked smoking. It was a nasty habit. Zach lifted himself off the sofa and went to the kitchen. I heard him pacing around the room for a bit. The night wasn’t meant to end like this. He wasn’t supposed to see me in such a state, telling him all about my shitty life.

  “That’s why you were brought in to this case, because of your previous connection to royal family?” he asked, staring at me from the other side of the room. The royals—that word was cut out of my vocabulary when I got fired and had to hide in the rabbit hole.

  “Yes, mainly, but the truth is that a demon took Prince Georgie. You’re a human, so you won’t understand any of it,” I said, forgetting who I was talking to. Zachary needed to hear the harsh truth. “Besides, I needed the cash to pay my overdue rent. I thought that tonight I would be responsible, that I could stay away from cards, but then you showed up.”

  He shook his head, and drew on a cigarette for longer than he supposed to. We were sitting in the darkness, but his eyes were focused on my face. I was too wasted to connect with his emotions, although I still wanted to know if he was ready to screw me.

  “Are you blaming me for getting drunk, Flower, and losing your rent money?” he asked with that hard, accusing tone of voice. And that nickname—he knew it drove me mad, but he still kept using it.

  “I’ll blame you when I get evicted.” I laughed. “Either way, I lost all the money tonight. Don’t worry, it’s not the first time and most certainly not the last.”

  It was time for me to go to sleep, to drift away from the problems of this fucked up world. Detective Zachary Quinton was a dream. All this time I was talking to myself, telling the other Maxine the real story.

  “Sleep, Flower, because tomorrow is going to be a new day and I’ll be there to mess with you all over again,” the voice whispered in my ear, and I smiled falling asleep.

  My eyes were stuck together when I woke up in the late morning the next day. I lifted my second pillow and pressed it over my face, hoping not to hear the emergency services just outside my window. I lived next to the busy street and it sounded like there was an accident outside. People were shouting and horns were going off. I felt like someone was hitting me with a hammer, as the blurry memories from last night slowly came back to me. After a few moments I realised that someone was banging at my door, loudly, too bloody loudly for such an early hour.

  When I scrambled off my bed I was naked. My clothes were folded on the floor next to the chair, and the clock on the wall was showing eleven clock in the morning. I didn’t remember undressing. What the hell happened here?

  “Crap, I’m late again. Ricky is gonna kill me,” I muttered to myself, throwing a T-shirt on and putting on clean underwear. I was surprised to find that I had any. I hadn’t done the laundry for over a decade.

  “I’m coming,” I shouted as the person outside started banging harder. When I finally unlocked it, I saw that it was my landlady, Mrs. Patel. For a split second I wished that I had woken up somewhere else this morning, maybe even in someone else’s body. She was here for the overdue rent and as far as I remember I had lost all my available cash last night.

  “Maxine, sorry to knock on your door this morning, but you’re three days late with your rent,” she said, eyeing my naked thighs and most likely smelling the stale alcohol on my breath. I could mess with her head, make her forget that I actually owe her any money, but that was against my own rules. I hated tampering with human minds. Besides I couldn’t get away with not paying my rent. This was morally wrong. “I can’t wait any longer, and you should set up a standing order so I don’t have to come to your door every month.”

  Mrs. Patel was a thirty-something Indian-born woman who was married to a property developer, Mr. Patel. Apparently they both started investing money in the housing market in the nineties, and these days they had quite a portfolio. I was forced to move in to this shitty flat a year ago, and Mrs. Patel was kind enough to wait for her security deposit.

  “Mrs. Patel, can you give me a minute? I’ve had a horrendous night,” I said, rubbing my eyes and stepping into the morning light outside, as it was dark in my hallway. I felt terrible, worse than normally and my head was hurting badly.

  “My God, what happened to your face? Are you all right?” she asked, probably assuming that I was ill. I lifted my hand and touched my cheek. It bloody hurt, so I turned swiftly around and ran back to my apartment. I put the light on in the hallway and I looked at my own reflection in the mirror. My left cheek was swollen and I had a freaking black eye. Memories flooded my mind. I remembered fighting with Zach, and it looked like the bastard hit me.

  Then, something else caught my attention: a white envelope that was placed on the dresser, next to my hairbrush. When I opened it I thought that I was dreaming. The envelope was full of cash.

  I took eight hundred from the stash when you went to the toilet. You said that you were late with rent.

  Now who should be your Prince Charming?

  Z.

  I re-read that damn note a few times, suddenly remembering everything from the night before. I was the last customer in The Broken Shoe, and Paul had sent me on my way. Zachary must have followed me back to my flat. I was completely wasted, and I couldn’t remember why I let him in the first place.

  “Maxine, are you all right?” I heard Mrs. Patel on the threshold. It was the exact amount that I needed for rent. Zachary must have taken some cash out that I won and kept it away, most likely predicting that I wasn’t done blowing it all off after I outplayed him.

  He couldn’t have known that I would be that stupid, that I’d lose all my money and get so wasted I couldn’t get home on my own. Well, it looked like I had misjudged him. I brushed my hair away from my face and headed back to Mrs. Patel, partly relieved and partly worried that I owed him a favour.

  “Here you go. Everything should be inside,” I said, handing her the cash. There was no one else I could have asked for a loan, so technically Zachary had saved my skin. That meant that I could stay in my shitty flat for another month.

  Mrs. Patel counted the money, and after convincing herself that everything was okay, she smiled with relief. I couldn’t remember when I told Zach that I hadn’t paid my rent. I didn’t know anything about him, but it seemed that from today onwards we were going to spend some time together.

  “Good, I’m glad, but please set up a standing order as soon as possible. It will save us both a lot of hassle in the future,” she told me. “And take care of yourself, Maxine. Maybe speak to someone. This shouldn’t be happening to you, dear.”

  I forced out a smile. She needed to know that I wasn’t a victim of domestic violence, that last night I simply had a playful fight with a hot cop.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Patel, but this was just an unfortunate misunderstanding. I’m really fine,” I mumbled, deciding to spare her that story
. She gave me a faint smile, muttered something else and then she was on her way. I shut the door and locked it, hoping to get back to sleep.

  On the other hand it would be a good idea to show up in the office on time for once and act like a responsible adult. Ricky must have extracted the potion from George’s blood by now, possibly linking someone within a demonic faction to this whole kidnapping.

  There was no point dwelling on last night. I got drunk, Zach saved my skin, and I had to thank him—that was the end of story.

  Within a half hour, I put some clothes on, brushed my messy hair and left the flat, feeling tired, achy and very pissed off with myself. People were staring at me when I was in the tube station, possibly because I looked like someone had beat me up. On top of that I was very much hungover.

  By the time I walked into the office, it was just after one o’clock.

  “Maxine, I’m so glad that you’re here. Ricky went out. He was called about another case.”

  Another case, what on earth was she talking about? Ricky didn’t see any clients without me, but then maybe this had something to do with the evidence that we had found last night.

  “Did he say anything else?” I asked, checking the mail.

  “He said, well… he was kind of rude,” she said shyly, looking at me with those big blue eyes.

  “Just tell me. I can take it,” I said. Humans, they appeared to be so fragile, always worried about other people.

  “Oh my God! What happened to your face?” she asked, like she just noticed my black eye.

  I placed my hands on her arms and said, “It’s nothing, Emma, just focus. What did Ricky say?”

  “For you not to fuck anything up before he came back. There’s some information about a man in his drawer that he wanted you to look at,” she rambled, looking anxiously at my black eye. Ricky must have worked really hard last night when I was getting wasted in the bar. There were some notes inside his cabinet, telling me that the demon that took George was part of Lucifer’s faction.

  “Maxine, can I ask you something?”

  Emma followed me back to Ricky’s room. She looked uncomfortable, like she wanted to tell me something, but was afraid to be rejected.

  “What it is, Emma?” I asked, trying to be patient, trying to act like I was a good boss.

  “Well, it’s my daughter’s birthday party this weekend and I was wondering if you would like to come. There will be mostly other mothers, but you have done so much for me already and I would love to have you there.”

  I glanced back at her, knowing that she was waiting for me to answer. Right at that moment, I was ready to forget I was running a business, that I was half demon and a weak soul. The pain inside my chest stung me hard, reminding me about the last twelve months, reminding me what exactly I had left behind.

  “I didn’t know you had a daughter,” I pointed out, sounding odd, feeling vulnerable. Her face brightened instantly, like a bulb in a dark room, and my soul darkened. Some snippets of her memories were slowly coming back to me.

  “Yes, she is five and she invited all her friends from school. We would love to have you there.” She said beaming, clapping enthusiastically. I scratched my head, trying to push that deep, burning guilt away, knowing that I could have taken a different path a couple of months ago.

  Emma looked happy, delighted, and I wanted to be like her, normal for once.

  “All right, I’ll come over. Leave the address and the time on my desk.” I forced out the words before my brain could process what I agreed to. Emma jumped again and then hugged me. I was stiff like a wooden board. This was weird.

  “Amaze balls, can’t wait. This will be awesome.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “In His will, our peace.” ― Dante Alighieri

  Ricky had left pretty good notes, and after triple-checking everything, I had a clear idea where I needed to head next. George could have been poisoned and smuggled out of the palace through the staff quarters. I still had no theory what exactly had happened that night, but I wanted to find the woman that Matt had spoken about. I needed to get back to the palace and question a couple of people that I had missed the day before.

  Instead of taking the tube to the palace, I headed to the south side of the city. Zachary worked at the police station in Epsom and after our agreement I had to talk to him about my next course of action, without revealing too much. Part of me wanted to stay away from him, but the other part needed to thank him for saving my arse. My gut feeling told me that George was still in the city, but most likely not for very long. The royals were the key, but the problem was that all of them (apart from Arthur) hated my freaking guts.

  Rubbing my achy thighs in the tube, I was listening to a mother that was telling off one of her twins for smearing chocolate over his brother’s face. Deep down this woman wished that she could leave them in the tube. Yeah, everyone somehow had dark marks on their souls.

  The crowds of people on the streets in early afternoon had put me off going out in the middle of the day, but at least it wasn’t raining. This case was my priority, and I didn’t want any unexpected visitors from hell looking into my background. Some mongrels with developed abilities like mine were summoned down below regardless of their role in society. Lucifer liked picking out half demons with exceptional abilities, and I had to stay away from hell as far as this was physically possible. The freedom in the underworld was limited; that’s why many demons were willing to try a new life on the outside.

  It took me a while to find the police station in Epsom. There was part of me that believed that Zach wanted to use me for something. He had his own dark secrets.

  As soon as I entered the red brick building, I knew that I could never truly call myself human. Tequila emphasised the emotions that humans were broadcasting. I felt extreme anger, pain and resentment. There were many people in the building filled with troubled thoughts. Zachary was inside too. I had spent enough time last night with him to recognise his fiery attitude somewhere on the third floor. Sometimes I connected with strangers, still not understanding that odd side of my supernatural abilities. My father, whoever he was, must have been a very powerful demon.

  I walked straight to the cop who sat at the front desk. Once I cleared my throat, he looked up and automatically frowned. He didn’t like my colourful hair and the fact that I had a black eye. He believed that I could still be saved if I pray to God for forgiveness. Yeah, I was most definitely in the wrong side of the city.

  “Hey, I’m looking Detective Quinton,” I said, ignoring his judgmental look.

  “Have you got an appointment?” he asked. “Are you from the press?”

  Wow, paranoid much?

  “We are on a case together and I need to speak to him urgently,” I explained, not entirely happy that I had to have an appointment just to see Zach. Humans were awkward, and sometimes difficult for no apparent reason. I hated wasting my precious time and this guy obviously judged me from the start.

  “Are you from another division?” he questioned.

  “No, I run a private detective agency. Detective Quinton and I have been assigned to a new case. Can you just do me a favour and tell him that I need to speak to him pronto?” I pressed, more hostile, losing my patience. He didn’t look amused or even impressed.

  “He’s busy. It might be a while,” he replied, not even bothering to inform Zach that I was waiting downstairs.

  I forced myself not to compel him to give me a pass upstairs. The hangover was hitting me hard this afternoon and I still had to head to Buckingham Palace. I didn’t want to get drunk tonight again. I had no more available cash and Ricky would kill me, knowing that I was wasting time.

  I waved my thanks and decided to wait for a bit, hoping that Zach would eventually show up. I found the bathroom after getting bored of waiting outside. There were a few female cops talking, some obviously in a hurry. I splashed some water over my face, wondering if I could sneak upstairs somehow and stop wasting time waiting around. I w
as just about to leave when I overheard a conversation between two police officers. One of them was inside the last cubical, and the other was washing her hands.

  “Apparently Zach came in late today and had a massive argument with Dean,” said the dark-haired one. I didn’t want it to look obvious that I was eavesdropping, so I entered the free cubical next to the last one.

  “Really? Zach is always in such a bad mood. The other day he nearly beat someone up on the street over some voodoo crap. I wonder why they haven’t suspended him yet,” pointed out the other woman, who was in the cubical next to mine. It seemed that Zach was well known at the station, obviously from his reputation as a stellar personality. All of a sudden I didn’t want to leave. If I was going to work with this guy, I wanted to get to know him a little better.

  “I don’t know, but apparently the superintendent had his guts full of complaints. Zach believes in all sorts of supernatural rubbish. He is super hot, but too eccentric. Apparently he is trying to find something odd in every bloody case that he lays his hands on these days,” said the woman who was now washing her hands in the sink.

  Humans weren’t aware of the other world, so it wasn’t a surprise that both of these women believed Zach was simply odd. The Watchers had made sure that every human was protected from the real truth, but every mongrel out there knew that sometimes rules were made to be broken. There had been many unexplained cases on the streets of London that many cops didn’t want to touch.

  “He was normal before, you know… before this thing with his partner.”

  Okay, now I needed to know what “this thing” with his partner meant.

  “I don’t know, maybe. That’s terrible what happened to Cora. She died at such a young age. Quinton had never believed in her suicide, you know,” said the one that was right opposite me. Hell, Ricky had been right. And Paul. Zachary was carrying a grudge over his dead partner. I should have let him win and solve this case on my own.